The Jazz Blog - PedagogyDidier Verna's blog on Jazz and music in general2020-06-06T01:03:47+02:00Didier Vernaurn:md5:5758d3efb9495ffa8211bb031b6b3594DotclearLisp, Jazz, Aikido, 10 years laterurn:md5:ba8567b36040b2338ee71dbf53aad7c7Wednesday 2 May 2018Wednesday 2 May 2018Didier VernaPedagogyAestheticsAikidoEssayJazzLispPhilosophy <p>10 years ago, I published a <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2007/04/03/Lisp-Jazz-Aikido">short blog</a> entitled "Lisp, Jazz, Aikido", barely scratching the surface of what I found to be commonalities between the 3 disciplines. At the time, I had the intuition that those ideas were the tip of a potentially big iceberg, and I ended the blog with the following sentence: "I'd like to write a proper essay about these things when I find the time... someday."</p>
<p>Well, 10 years later, I did. The essay, which is 50 pages long, has been published in the <a href="http://programming-journal.org/2018/2/10/" hreflang="en">Art, Science, and Engineering of Programming Journal</a>, and actually received the Reviewers'Choice Award 2018. I'm not the bragging type, far from it, but I had to mention this because this essay is so personal, and I invested so much in its preparation (more than 300 hours) that I am as deeply touched by the award as I would have been hurt, had it been negatively received...</p>
<p>The live presentation has unfortunately not been recorded, but I took the time to make a screencast afterwards, which is now <a href="https://youtu.be/CbciCrQCpkI" hreflang="en">available on YouTube</a>. Just like the essay, this presentation is not in the typical setting that you'd expect at a scientific conference...</p>
<p>If you've got an artistic fiber, if you're sensitive to the aesthetic dimension in what you do, you may enjoy this work...</p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2018/05/02/Lisp%2C-Jazz%2C-Aikido%2C-10-years-later#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/41Qu'est-ce qu'une note ?urn:md5:4eb89de66b4278b07d0bb8fb8e30c15dFriday 14 October 2011Friday 14 October 2011Didier VernaPedagogycognitioncultureearnoteperceptionpitch <p>L&rsquo;illustre Claude Barthélémy, en guise d&rsquo;introduction à son <a href="http://www.claudebarthelemy.com/qu-est-ce-qu-une-note/" hreflang="fr">blog</a>, raconte une anecdote
très intéressante et s&rsquo;interroge: «&nbsp;Qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une note&nbsp;»&thinsp;? J&rsquo;étais justement en train d&rsquo;ébaucher un article du même ordre, ce qui m&rsquo;a conduit à presser le pas... Voici donc quelques réflexions à ce sujet.</p>
<h2>Perception et Interprétation</h2>
<p>Nous savons que notre perception de l&rsquo;environnement, au travers des 5 sens communs mais aussi au travers de la proprioception (perception interne), agi comme une sorte de «&nbsp;filtre passe-bande&nbsp;»: nous ne percevons pas l&rsquo;intégralité du spectre sonore, nous ne voyons pas toutes les nuances de couleurs etc. Notre appréhension du monde est donc partielle.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/carre.jpg" title="carre.jpg"><img src="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/.carre_t.jpg" alt="carre.jpg" style="float:right; margin: 0 0 1em 1em;" title="carre.jpg, Oct 2011" /></a>Paradoxalement, elle est en même temps plus riche. Un peu comme si la nature nous aidait à reconstruire ce que nos sens réducteurs nous avaient fait perdre. Les sciences cognitives nous apprennent que notre perception du monde est active. Non seulement nous percevons, mais nous interprétons nos percepts. Les exemples sont à la fois classiques et nombreux. Sur l&rsquo;image (cliquable) ci-contre, voyez-vous un carré&nbsp;? Mais existe t&rsquo;il&nbsp;? Indication: celui qui voit au contraire 4 Pacman doit immédiatement consulter son médecin traitant...</p>
<p><a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/illusions.jpg" title="illusions.jpg"><img src="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/.illusions_t.jpg" alt="illusions.jpg" style="float:left; margin: 0 1em 1em 0;" title="illusions.jpg, Oct 2011" /></a>
Deux autres exemples classiques sont l&rsquo;illusion de Müller-Lyer (les deux lignes horizontales sont de même longueur) ou la fameuse «&nbsp;Cascade&nbsp;» d&rsquo;Escher qui semble couler à l&rsquo;infini. Ces exemples sont intéressants car ils montrent bien que non seulement nous interprétons, mais en plus, nous ne le faisons pas volontairement. Nos sens nous trompent en quelque sorte.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/collectif_trompe_oeil_022.jpg" title="collectif_trompe_oeil_022.jpg"><img src="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/perception/.collectif_trompe_oeil_022_t.jpg" alt="collectif_trompe_oeil_022.jpg" style="float:right; margin: 0 0 1em 1em;" title="collectif_trompe_oeil_022.jpg, Oct 2011" /></a>
Il est parfois possible, cependant, de contrôler le processus d&rsquo;interprétation de nos percepts plutôt que de le subir. Sur l&rsquo;image ci-contre, voyez-vous une vieille dame ou plutôt une jeune fille&nbsp;? Pouvez-vous voir les deux&nbsp;? Pouvez-vous choisir à tout moment celle que vous préférez voir&nbsp;?</p>
<p>Tout ceci nous permet d&rsquo;exhiber 3 étapes fondamentales dans l&rsquo;acte de percevoir et d&rsquo;interpréter: l&rsquo;étape <em>sensorielle</em> dans laquelle un stimulus nous parvient et excite nos capteurs, l&rsquo;étape <em>perceptive</em> dans laquelle nous extrayons des motifs élémentaires (par exemple des formes; c&rsquo;est ici que nos sens peuvent nous tromper) puis l&rsquo;étape <em>cognitive</em> dans laquelle nous identifions les choses perçues, grâce en particulier à ce que nous connaissons déjà. Rajoutons par là-dessus une boucle sensorimotrice et nous obtenons un système fort compliqué...</p>
<h2>Qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une note&nbsp;?</h2>
<p>La perception auditive ne fait pas exception à la règle. L&rsquo;étape sensorielle a lieu lorsqu&rsquo;une vibration acoustique est transmise à nos tympans. L&rsquo;étape perceptive met en branle l&rsquo;oreille interne, la cochlée, l&rsquo;organe de Corti. L&rsquo;étape cognitive, pour finir, est sans doute la plus magique et mystérieuse: elle dépend de notre connaissance musicale, de notre culture, de nos apprentissages etc.</p>
<p>Sur les 20 dernières années (grossièrement), les chercheurs neurologues ont abouti a des résultats assez fascinants sur le fonctionnement de notre «&nbsp;organe musical&nbsp;». L&rsquo;on sait aujourd&rsquo;hui que celui-ci opère l&rsquo;équivalent d&rsquo;une transformée de Fourier sur le son, traduisant une information temporelle en son équivalent fréquentiel. Il en découle des propriétés étonnantes, comme une prédisposition innée à l&rsquo;octave (traduite par une synchronisation des «&nbsp;spikes&nbsp;» de différents groupes de neurones) ainsi qu&rsquo;à la quinte. Il est donc vraissemblable que nos structures musicales, au moins en partie, ne soient pas dues au hasard, mais répondent bien à un besoin physiologique.</p>
<p>Nos prédispositions (notre câblage biologique), ne suffisent cependant pas à tout expliquer (heureusement&nbsp;! Il n&rsquo;y aurait plus ni mystère ni magie sinon). Dans ce qui suit, je vous propose quelques réflexions centrées sur la dernière phase (cognitive) du processus de perception / interprétation, c&rsquo;est-à-dire sur les aspects culturels, d&rsquo;apprentissage, de connaissance etc. Afin de comprendre ce qu&rsquo;est une note, on peut aussi prendre le problème à l&rsquo;envers, c&rsquo;est-à-dire se demander «&nbsp;qu&rsquo;est-ce qui n&rsquo;est pas une note&nbsp;», voire même «&nbsp;qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une fausse note&nbsp;». C&rsquo;est par là que je vais commencer.</p>
<h3>Qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une fausse note&nbsp;?</h3>
<p>La caractérisation la plus usuelle de la fausse note est la note que le musicien joue sans en avoir eu l&rsquo;intention. Celle-ci devrait d&rsquo;ailleurs plutôt s&rsquo;appeler «&nbsp;note accidentelle&nbsp;», car bon nombre de ces fausses notes ne sont pas fausses du tout, et en particulier pas fausses pour l&rsquo;auditeur.
Pour faire un parallèle avec les langues vivantes (vous savez que c&rsquo;est un de mes <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?tpost/fr/2011/09/23/Le-langage-naturel-de-l-Improvisation">chevaux de bataille</a>), certaines fausses notes sont assimilables à des lapsus musicaux (une note pour une autre), et tout comme les lapsus linguistiques, peuvent conduire à des phrases musicales tout à fait correctes, tant sur le plan syntaxique que sémantique, avec, pourquoi pas, une connotation humoristique, et tout cela sans que l&rsquo;auditeur soit capable de dire si l&rsquo;effet était intentionnel ou pas.</p>
<p>En prenant cette idée dans l&rsquo;autre sens, on pourrait également considérer que la note <em>oubliée</em>, c&rsquo;est-à-dire non produite, est fausse de par son abscence, parce qu&rsquo;elle était censée être jouée. Ici encore, l&rsquo;accident peut très bien passer tout à fait inaperçu. Un peu comme quand un acteur de théâtre rate une ligne dans sa réplique, sans que le spectateur ne s&rsquo;en aperçoive.</p>
<p>Ce petit préambule a pour vertu de montrer que la question «&nbsp;qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une fausse note&nbsp;?&nbsp;» est idiote si l&rsquo;on ne se demande pas «&nbsp;fausse pour qui, et par rapport à quoi&nbsp;?&nbsp;». La question est donc une question de relativité. Dans le cas des fausses notes produites, il me semble que l&rsquo;on peut en distinguer 4 catégories.</p>
<h4>La fausse note absolue</h4>
<p>À un certain moment dans l&rsquo;histoire de la musique occidentale, on a décidé que le LA de référence serait une vibration de 440 Hz. À partir de ce LA de référence, l&rsquo;établissement d&rsquo;une gamme tempérée entraîne l&rsquo;attribution d&rsquo;une fréquence fixe à toutes les notes. Une fausse note absolue est donc une note dont la fréquence fondamentale ne correspond à aucune de celles «&nbsp;autorisées&nbsp;» par la gamme tempérée de référence (par exemple, un LA trop haut qui vibrerait à 441 Hz).</p>
<p>Le poil de certains musiciens classiques se hérisse à l&rsquo;ouïe d&rsquo;une fausse note absolue (c&rsquo;est joli à voir, un musicien classique avec le poil hérissé). Pour quelle raison&nbsp;? Parce qu&rsquo;ils ont l&rsquo;oreille absolue (environ 20% d&rsquo;entre eux, selon des estimations récentes). L&rsquo;oreille absolue est un phénomène intéressant: il s&rsquo;agit de pouvoir identifier une note directement en fonction de sa hauteur, sans se baser sur une note de référence que l&rsquo;on aurait joué juste avant. Des recherches relativement récentes on montré que pour avoir l&rsquo;oreille absolue, il faut une combinaison de facteurs innés (génétiques) et acquis. Dans l&rsquo;inné, on trouve une forte capacité de discrimination fréquentielle de l&rsquo;oreille interne, ainsi qu&rsquo;une forte capacité de mémorisation auditive. Dans l&rsquo;acquis, le facteur critique est un apprentissage très jeune de la musique, en particulier du solfège, avec une référence constante au diapason. Plus vous faites de dictée musicale tout gamin, plus vous avez de chances de développer l&rsquo;oreille absolue. À l&rsquo;inverse on a aussi montré que même doté des capacités innées nécessaires, il est impossible de développer l&rsquo;oreille absolue à l&rsquo;âge adulte, même chez des musiciens confirmés. On voit donc bien le caractère essentiel de l&rsquo;aspect cognitif: l&rsquo;apprentissage très jeune, à l&rsquo;heure où le cerveau est encore en développement.</p>
<p>Un zoreille absolu est gêné par une fausse note absolue parce qu&rsquo;elle ne correspond à aucune des notes qu&rsquo;il a appris à reconnaître. Elle ne rentre dans aucun moule. C&rsquo;est pour cela que la musique baroque, censée être jouée à une référence plus basse que 440Hz a dérangé bon nombre de musiciens. Un jour, j&rsquo;ai presque rendu physiquement malade une violoncelliste en lui chantant une gamme à l&rsquo;envers: je chantais do ré mi fa sol la si do, mais en disant do si la sol fa mi ré do... amusant non&nbsp;? Pas pour elle. Le fait d&rsquo;entendre une note associée à un mauvais nom la dérangeait beaucoup, mais le fait que cela puisse être fait volontairement lui paru totalement ahurissant. Au passage, la personnalisation des notes (leur donner un nom) est un autre aspect intéressant qui joue sur l&rsquo;oreille absolue, et que les anglo-saxons nous envient.</p>
<p>Il paraît que quand j&rsquo;étais petit et que j&rsquo;apprenais le solfège au conservatoire, j&rsquo;avais l&rsquo;oreille absolue. Je pense l&rsquo;avoir perdue au moment où j&rsquo;ai abandonné le classique au profit du Jazz, et que je suis passé du piano à la guitare, ce qui n&rsquo;est sans doute pas un hasard. Le piano est un instrument absolu: il existe une unique manière de jouer une note. Les notes sont toutes étalées sur le clavier, et l&rsquo;apprentissage vous conduit à une mémoire physique des notes en valeur absolue (c&rsquo;est la même chose avec un saxophone). Par opposition, la guitare est un instrument plutôt relatif. Il existe plusieurs manières de jouer une note, et ce qui est constant c&rsquo;est l&rsquo;intervalle: une case de différence vaut un demi-ton. Pour un guitariste, il est assez trivial de transposer par exemple. Il suffit souvent de se décaler sur le manche. Par conséquent, l&rsquo;apprentissage de la guitare conduit à une mémoire physique des intervalles plus que des notes. Une mémoire relative plutôt qu&rsquo;absolue.</p>
<p>Tout ça pour dire que si votre apprentissage ne vous a pas conduit à l&rsquo;oreille absolue, une fausse note absolue ne sera, pour vous, pas fausse du tout&nbsp;! Et quand je vois la gêne qu&rsquo;occasionne l&rsquo;oreille absolue chez certains musiciens (incapables de lire une partition de cuivre transposée en si ou mi bémol), je me dis que je suis plutôt content de l&rsquo;avoir perdue...</p>
<h4>La fausse note relative</h4>
<p>Supposons maintenant que vous ayez l&rsquo;oreille relative plutôt qu&rsquo;absolue, c&rsquo;est-à-dire qu&rsquo;à partir d&rsquo;une référence que l&rsquo;on vous donne (même si c&rsquo;est 441 Hz), vous soyez capable de reconnaître les intervalles. Dans ce cas, vous percevrez certainement toutes les notes de la gamme diatonique (faisons abstraction des problèmes de tempérament), dans cette nouvelle référence, comme justes. Cependant, il y a aussi gros à parier que si l&rsquo;on vous sort un quart de ton ou une note décalée de quelques commas (qui pourrait tout à fait retomber sur un LA 440 Hz), votre poil se hérisse à son tour. C&rsquo;est ce que j&rsquo;appelle une fausse note relative.</p>
<p>Mais ces notes sont-elles vraiment fausses&nbsp;? Comment peuvent-elles être fausses alors qu&rsquo;il existe des musiques (arabes et indiennes notamment) ou les intervalles de 3/4 et 2/3 de tons sont monnaie courante&nbsp;? Peu importe que notre physiologie nous câble pour l&rsquo;octave et la quinte par exemple. Ce qui est important, c&rsquo;est de constater qu&rsquo;un intervalle de 3/4 de ton est choquant pour certaines personnes et pas choquant pour d&rsquo;autres. Cela montre à nouveau l&rsquo;importance de la culture musicale: quels sont nos codes, à quoi est-on habitués, qu&rsquo;a-t-on appris et à quoi est-ce que l&rsquo;on s&rsquo;attend. Pour tout dire, je m&rsquo;amuse comme un petit fou en ce moment à jouer «&nbsp;faux&nbsp;» exprès sur une guitare fretless... La musique micro-tonale n&rsquo;est pas loin.</p>
<h4>La fausse note contextuelle</h4>
<p>Le même phénomène se retrouve dans ma troisième catégorie de fausse note: la fausse note contextuelle. Une fausse note contextuelle est juste absolument ou relativement, mais ne correspond pas au contexte harmonique sous-jacent. Par exemple, une tierce mineure est contextuellement fausse sur un accord majeur. Les fameuses «&nbsp;avoid-notes&nbsp;» comme la quarte sur un accord majeur font partie de cette catégorie. Une fausse note contextuelle est dissonante, un terme à connotation largement péjorative. Si mes souvenirs sont bons, Miles Davis, le premier, s&rsquo;est fait traiter d&rsquo;hérétique lorsqu&rsquo;il a commencé à jouer sur le mélange tierce majeure / mineure. Pourtant, aujourd&rsquo;hui, jouer «&nbsp;out&nbsp;» est devenu un sport international dans l&rsquo;improvisation Jazz. J&rsquo;adore par exemple la manière dont Randy Brecker se moque de la tonalité «&nbsp;officielle&nbsp;» d&rsquo;un morceau pour aller se balader à gauche et à droite, puis retomber sur ses pattes. Un jeu qui, 30 ans plus tôt, aurait été perçu comme totalement faux et par conséquent très choquant. D&rsquo;un point de vue pédagogique, on en est même venu à développer des techniques de jeu atonal: l&rsquo;exception est devenue règle (Cf. cet autre <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?tpost/fr/2007/04/03/Lisp-Jazz-Aikido">article</a> sur la notion de règle et de transgression).</p>
<p>Alors que s&rsquo;est-il passé depuis la glorieuse époque des règles strictes de l&rsquo;harmonie classique&nbsp;? Toujours le même processus: notre culture musicale a évolué, sous l&rsquo;impulsion de chercheurs brutaux et surprenants, bouleversant nos référentiels, nos codes, s&rsquo;attirant les foudres des conservateurs mais nous offrant en permanence de nouveaux standards sur lesquels s&rsquo;appuyer. Tout ce qui fait que la partie cognitive de notre perception est en mouvement perpétuel.</p>
<h4>La fausse pas-note</h4>
<p>Lors de son <a href="http://www.college-de-france.fr/site/karol-beffa/index.htm#" title="q=/site/karol-beffa/seminar-2012-2013.htm">intervention</a> au Collège de France, Bernard Sèves identifie à fort juste titre une autre forme de fausse note dont l&rsquo;exemple le plus flagrant est le fameux «&nbsp;canard&nbsp;» ou «&nbsp;couac&nbsp;» que vous renverra, à la moindre occasion, une anche mal apprivoisée. Il met également l&rsquo;abominable «&nbsp;crin crin&nbsp;» du violon débutant dans cette catégorie. L&rsquo;on pourrait aussi ajouter le malencontreux «&nbsp;bzoing&nbsp;» produit par le guitariste qui, ratant un doigté, obtient un frisé de la corde sur une fret, voire un claquage sur le manche.</p>
<p>Selon la terminologie proposée plus haut, ces fausses notes ne sont ni absolues, ni relatives, ni mêmes contextuelles puisqu&rsquo;à la limite, ce ne sont même pas des notes: il s&rsquo;agit plus de bruit que de musique (un autre vaste sujet d&rsquo;ailleurs). L&rsquo;on pourrait donc les appeler des «&nbsp;fausses pas-notes&nbsp;».</p>
<p>Alors, j&rsquo;en vois d&rsquo;ici certains qui se sentent soulagés et se disent que finalement, il en existe bien, des fausses notes qui en soient des vraies (pas
des vraies notes, des vraies fausses notes). Alors désolé de vous décevoir, mais ces fausses pas-notes ne sont pas fausses non plus. De nombreux musiciens apprenent à les maîtriser et à en jouer. Encore une fois, les exemples dans le Jazz sont nombreux. Dans le domaine du bzoing par exemple, citons Lionel Loueke qui place un petit morceau de papier sous les cordes de sa guitare, afin de produire du bzoing à gogo. Par extension, l&rsquo;on pourrait également classer le slap des bassistes dans la catégorie du bzoing intentionnel. Chez certains d&rsquo;entre eux (Alain Caron, Jonas Hellborg, Victor Wooten...) l&rsquo;art de la fausse pas-note atteint des niveaux de virtuosité proprement stupéfiants. Et puisque l&rsquo;on en est au bzoing, poussons le bouchon jusqu&rsquo;à mentionner Chick Corea, disposant des balles de ping-pong dans son piano, pour le faire bzoinguer comme une guitare. La maîtrise du canard ne fait pas non plus exception à la règle. S&rsquo;il ne fallait en citer qu&rsquo;un, le nom de Michael Brecker (le plus grand génie du sax contemporain à mon sens) s&rsquo;impose. Écouter par exemple El Niño (Two Blocks from the Edge) ou certaines restitutions live de Song for Barry (Brecker Brothers).</p>
<p>Voici donc pour nos quatre types de fausses notes produites. Mais l&rsquo;histoire ne s&rsquo;arrête pas là, puisqu&rsquo;il me semble en effet important de parler, au delà de la note, de la notion de bruit. Il existe une séparation très nette entre les trois premières catégories de fausses notes produites et la quatrième (la fausse pas-note). En effet, dans les trois premiers cas, la note produite est conforme à l&rsquo;utilisation que l&rsquo;on est censé faire de l&rsquo;instrument. Dans le quatrième cas par contre, le son produit est dû à un effet étranger à la conception de l&rsquo;instrument lui-même. Par exemple, taper sur une contre-basse (la pauvre) pour induire un effet percussif consiste à utiliser l&rsquo;instrument dans un cadre différent de ce pourquoi il est conçu au départ. Cette distinction fait à nouveau totalement écho aux notions de «&nbsp;corps physique&nbsp;» et «&nbsp;corps instrumental&nbsp;» développées par Bernand Sèves. Utiliser le corps physique d&rsquo;un instrument consiste à produire des sons qui dépassent les possibilités envisagées par la conception de l&rsquo;instrument lui-même. Et comme nous venons de le voir, dès que l&rsquo;on s&rsquo;attaque au corps physique de l&rsquo;instrument, la frontière entre note, son et bruit tend à disparaître, ce qui nous amène tout droit vers la notion suivante...</p>
<h3>Qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une moche note&nbsp;?</h3>
<p>À l&rsquo;époque où je faisais ma crise d&rsquo;ado en écoutant très fort du Heavy Metal dans ma chambre, mon père, grand mélomane et passionné de musique classique, avait l&rsquo;habitude de pénétrer furieux (et sans frapper) dans mes quartiers en hurlant «&nbsp;c&rsquo;est pas de la musique ça, c&rsquo;est du bruit, c&rsquo;est horrible&nbsp;!&nbsp;».</p>
<p>Alors, qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;une moche note&nbsp;? D&rsquo;un point de vue signal, Le son saturé d&rsquo;une guitare est grossièrement produit par un écrêtage sur les plus fortes amplitudes, produisant tout un troupeau d&rsquo;harmoniques dans le domaine fréquentiel. D&rsquo;un autre côté, ce qui fait la beauté du son d&rsquo;un instrument, c&rsquo;est justement les harmoniques qu&rsquo;il produit. Une pure sinusoïde (un pic de Dirac dans le spectre fréquentiel), ce n&rsquo;est pas tellement beau, c&rsquo;est assez pauvre. Dans le domaine musical, la pureté ne vaut donc pas beauté, bien au contraire. Le son d&rsquo;une guitare saturée, que beaucoup considèrent comme moche, est en fait un son très riche.</p>
<p>La beauté, l&rsquo;esthétique aussi, dans une certaine mesure, est contrainte par des aspects de conformité culturelle. Ce qui est intéressant dans la moche note, c&rsquo;est qu&rsquo;elle produit, chez la personne qui la considère comme moche, une émotion à l&rsquo;opposé du plaisir. Un rejet, un incomfort, voire une certaine violence. Mais qui a jamais dit que la musique ne devait être que belle&nbsp;? La littérature, le cinéma, le théâtre, la peinture, la sculpture jouent sur tout le panel des émotions. Pourquoi un film d&rsquo;horreur est-il un film, mais une guitare saturée seulement du bruit&nbsp;? La moche note apporte à la musique son quota de violence, de haine, d&rsquo;angoisse, de peur, toutes ces émotions qui font que les arts parlent de la vie plutôt que seulement du pays des Bisounours.</p>
<p>On rejoint ici l&rsquo;anecdote initiale dont Claude parle dans son blog. Y a-t-il une différence entre une note et un bruit&nbsp;? L&rsquo;on sait que dans certains cas, l&rsquo;oreille (au sens large) est capable reconstituer une fréquence fondamentale là où elle manque. J&rsquo;ai tendance à penser que nous sommes aussi capables du processus inverse: lorsqu&rsquo;une note nous choque, nous avons tendance à faire abstraction d&rsquo;une fréquence fondamentale qui pourtant existe, et par la même nous transformons une moche note en simple bruit.</p>
<h2>Beaucoup (trop) de notes</h2>
<p>Un petit peu en marge du sujet qui nous occupe ici, un autre souvenir me revient. À l&rsquo;époque où je finissais ma crise d&rsquo;ado en écoutant très fort du Michael Brecker dans ma chambre, mon père, grand mélomane et passionné de musique classique, avait l&rsquo;habitude de pénétrer furieux (et sans frapper; ça vous rappelle quelque chose&thinsp;?) dans mes quartiers en hurlant «&nbsp;non, mais il fait n&rsquo;importe quoi à toute vitesse, là, hein&thinsp;?!&nbsp;». Mon père n&rsquo;aimait pas qu&rsquo;il y ait beaucoup (trop) de notes. Ce qu&rsquo;il ne réalisait pas cependant, c&rsquo;est que certains des morceaux classiques qu&rsquo;il chérissait avaient tout autant de notes, et toutes aussi rapides. La seule vraie différence résidait dans le fait qu&rsquo;il était certainement habitué aux motifs classiques, et beaucoup moins aux gammes pentatoniques, diminuées, demi-diminuées, et je ne parle même pas de jouer «&nbsp;out&nbsp;».</p>
<p>Là encore, on voit que la «&nbsp;beauté&nbsp;» d&rsquo;une montée ou d&rsquo;une descente de gamme, d&rsquo;un arpège, quelle que soit sa vitesse, dépend avant tout de ce à quoi l&rsquo;on est habitué, de ce à quoi l&rsquo;on s&rsquo;attend. Un peu comme quand quelqu&rsquo;un vous parle et que vous lui coupez subitement la parole en précisant: «&nbsp;oui, oui, je vois ce que tu veux dire&nbsp;». On a compris le message avant même sa fin. Quand il y a beaucoup (trop) de notes, l&rsquo;important pour l&rsquo;auditeur n&rsquo;est pas chaque note, prise individuellement, mais l&rsquo;impression d&rsquo;ensemble qu&rsquo;elles vous laissent. Le sens général du message. De la même manière que vous vous souvenez du sens général d&rsquo;une conversation sans pour autant vous rappeler les mots exacts.</p>
<p>En fait (j&rsquo;insiste), il existe de très nombreux parallèles entre la musique (l&rsquo;improvisation en particulier) et les langues vivantes. Voir cet autre <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?tpost/fr/2011/09/23/Le-langage-naturel-de-l-Improvisation">article</a> à ce sujet.</p>
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>Cette petit réflexion nous a permis d&rsquo;identifier plusieurs catégories de fausses notes, et en même temps de montrer la profonde relativité de ce
concept. En fait, la fausse note n&rsquo;existe pas (et par conséquent, la juste note non plus). Tout bruit peut être note, toute note peut être bruit.</p>
<p>Une note, ce n&rsquo;est pas un <em>état</em> mais un <em>processus</em>. La note produite, tout comme la note non produite, nous l&rsquo;avons vu plus haut, est indissociable du musicien qui la produit et de l&rsquo;auditeur qui la reçoit. Le concept de note n&rsquo;existe simplement pas si l&rsquo;on omet l&rsquo;un de ces maillons. Pour le musicien, une note peut être fausse si elle est accidentelle ou omise, mais même ces notes là peuvent plaire au musicien. Pour l&rsquo;auditeur, une note peut être fausse si elle n&rsquo;est pas attendue, si la surprise n&rsquo;est pas agréable, mais même dans ce contexte, l&rsquo;auditeur peut très bien décider de considérer la note comme juste. Une note ne peut être fausse que dans un certain référentiel, et il y a autant de référentiels que d&rsquo;actes de musique.</p>
<p>C&rsquo;est la même chose avec le rythme, au passage (et ça pourrait faire l&rsquo;objet d&rsquo;un autre article): une note n&rsquo;est pas plus fausse qu&rsquo;une mesure à 7/8 est «&nbsp;bancale&nbsp;». Ce qui est magique avec l&rsquo;art, c&rsquo;est qu&rsquo;entre l&rsquo;artiste et l&rsquo;auditeur/spectateur, il y a un miroir sans tain. L&rsquo;artiste nous envoie un message émotionnel, mais ce n&rsquo;est pas celui que l&rsquo;on reçoit. Ce que l&rsquo;on reçoit, c&rsquo;est un amalgame mystérieux entre le message émis, et ce que nous y projetons et qui nous est renvoyé, reflet de nous-même, distordu par les aspects cognitifs, culturels et conjoncturels de notre perception.</p>
<h2>Post-Scriptum</h2>
<p>Je parlais plus haut d&rsquo;oreille absolue versus relative. J&rsquo;ai la sensation qu&rsquo;il existe un troisième «&nbsp;talent&nbsp;» d&rsquo;oreille, que j&rsquo;ai envie d&rsquo;appeler «&nbsp;oreille harmonique&nbsp;». Pour avoir discuté avec bon nombre de musiciens, classique notamment, je sais que pas mal d&rsquo;entre eux m&rsquo;envie cette capacité de reconnaître instantanément la couleur d&rsquo;un accord (9+, m7b5, sus4 etc.). Il me semble que c&rsquo;est différent de l&rsquo;oreille relative car lorsque j&rsquo;analyse la couleur d&rsquo;un accord, je ne pense pas le faire note par note (ou plutôt intervalle par intervalle), mais directement, globalement. Je ne sais pas si ce phénomène a fait l&rsquo;objet d&rsquo;études, mais je serais très intéressé par des informations sur la question&nbsp;!</p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2011/10/14/What-is-a-note#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/25Taming Harmony: an exampleurn:md5:2662fd80adf6f99d9c3299d1eeedd180Sunday 25 September 2011Sunday 25 September 2011Didier VernaPedagogy@-quartetchallengecompositionimprovisationPrintemptation <p><a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/printemptation.jpg" title="Printemptation Score"><img src="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/public/.printemptation_t.jpg" alt="Printemptation Score" style="float:right; margin: 0 0 1em 1em;" title="Printemptation Score, Sep 2011" /></a>This article comes from a Guitar Live <a href="http://www.guitare-live.com/guitare-archives,1092.html">challenge</a> on my composition « Printemptation » from the album <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/records/@-quartet.php">@-quartet</a>. It was an improvisation challenge that some people found difficult (to be honest, it was !). In this article, I'm transcribing some advice I gave on the occasion as well as my personal view on the way to approach delicate scores and on the fundamental ingredients that make an improvisation worth listening to. This is mostly about the semantic aspects of improvisation (Cf. the article <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2011/09/23/The-%28natural%29-Language-of-Improvisation">The (natural) Language of Improvisation</a>). You can click on the icon on the right to download the score of this tune. You can also download the tune itself from tyhe album's page.</p>
<h2>General presentation</h2>
<p>Printemptation is an interesting composition from the perspective of improvisation because, although based on very common harmonic figures in Jazz (as a matter of fact, in the whole occidental music), it comes with two major difficulties.</p>
<p>By reading the score, you will notice that this tune is almost exclusively built on top of II V I's, either major or minor. II V I is indeed the most frequent harmonic progression in Jazz, and is actually the unavoidable grounding for all occidental music (the well know principle of tension/resolution). To play with this figure is probably the first thing that you learn when you begin improvisation. So, if the Occident is so familiar with II V I's, where are the difficulties ?</p>
<p>The first one is that this tune moves a lot. If you sequentially "unfold" it, let alone the "reprise" (what's the word in English?), you can count no less than eleven different keys. The second one is that the rhythmic figure changes at two different places, introducing 3/4 bars.</p>
<h3>Approaching the harmony</h3>
<p>As far as the harmonic progression is concerned, and given that improvising on II V I's is not very challenging, it is more important here to master the key changes than the different keys themselves. By the way, this is one of my musical creeds: what makes the quality of an improvisation is not so much the phrases than how they are articulated together. A sequence of "correct" but unrelated phrases is uninteresting. On the other hand, a logical link that makes your phrases relate to each other turns your improvisation into a true musical story, with an opening, a "middle" and an ending. That's where musicality is found.</p>
<p>You will also notice that the tune's theme is representative of this idea by itself: the pattern expressed in the first 3 bars is almost constantly repeated, only under different shapes (different harmonic contexts), that contribute to unify all the encountered keys, by giving them a common logic...</p>
<h3>Approaching the rhythm</h3>
<p>As far as the rhythmic subtleties are concerned: in occidental music, we are more accustomed to key changes than rhythmic ones. One should then pay attention not to be destabilized by the incursion of the 3/4 bars. Besides, the improvisation must be sufficiently in "harmony" with the rhythm changes so that those bars do not sound like a fifth wheel. When you listen to the tune, these measures don't sound weird (at least I hope not!). They sound natural, and that must be the case while improvising. In other words, they should be well integrated in their 4/4 environment.</p>
<p>However, those are indeed 3/4 bars, and should stand as such. A gross mistake would be for instance to consider bars 13, 14 and 15 (3/3, 3/3 and 2/4) as two 4/4 bars ! Although it amounts to the correct number of beats, this is definitely not the spirit of the tune...</p>
<h2>Harmony and the notion of transition</h2>
<p>After this general presentation, I think it is interesting to give more details about my personal vision of how to approach harmony, and above all, the notion of transition which is to me at the heart of the improvised discourse.</p>
<h3>Taming the tune's harmony</h3>
<p>First of all, don't be too frightened by the complexity of the chords (at least in a first step). In a Jazz score, the embellishments are often here to provide hints about the spirit of the theme, and because the theme is itself embellished at the melodic level.</p>
<p>Jazz musicians like to embellish, and even modify the chords at will, but then, you have to pay attention to "clashes" with the melody, when it is written (hence in particular with song themes). For instance, say I have a CM7 to play, but I'm bored, so I decide to add a 5b (I often do that, in fact). However, that's too bad for me but the guy playing the theme has to play a natural 5th, or worse, a 5# at the same time. There, we have a clash. In order to avoid that, it is important to note these embellishments in the score because they appear in the melody, and hence writing them down will prevent your accompanist from taking too much liberty. In the Printemptation score for instance, you may notice that I felt the need to write down some minor 7 chords as minor 7/9. No need for a high school grade to know that the 9th adds up nicely to a minor 7 chord, but I still wrote it down because the theme plays with it a lot. Another example: on bar number 7, the Db-7 is noted 11. Why ? Because the theme plays this 11th note. So that is an important embellishment.</p>
<p>Now, when you go from theme accompaniment to improvisation, that is another story. Everyone embellishes, substitutes at will... that's the whole point of Jazz. Of course, there is a risk of harmonic clash, but that risk is part of the game, and when there is a real complicity between the musicians, harmonic (or even rhythmic) ideas might come collectively. In other words, for the improvisation part, don't bother sticking to the "official" embellishments too much; that is not the point. Besides, as already mentioned by one of the participants, the chords played by Guillaume Naud behind my solo do not exactly match the score... but who cares ? What's important is the overall idea. Again, it's like a conversation actually: most of the time, you can remember the general sense of a conversation, but you wouldn't remember the exact words people said. So in a first step, make your life simpler: consider a sequence of II V I's and play with them. Your work shall then begin with spotting them in the score.</p>
<p>When a chord is embellished (but thought as part of a particular mode), there are two kinds of embellishments: internal and external ones. External ones are very important because they change the nature of the original chord. Hence you must respect them. The others are inherently obvious. You can use them anytime.</p>
<p>Example: if you see a C6/9 coming in the II V I in C, there's nothing new under the sun, really. Why ? Because in this II V I, you'd play Ionian C (C D E F G A B) as on a CM7, and the 6th and the 9th are already part of this mode. So a C6/9 in this context is just a CM7 that's showing off. All the notes are usable (read: do not change the spirit of the chord). There's one exception though (otherwise, there would be no fun): the F clashes a bit. It belongs to what's called "avoid notes": a note that you'd rather not play, or only transitionally. In the same way, a D-7/9/11 as the second degree of a II V I is nothing else but a basic minor 7 because both the 9th and the 11th belong to the mode already.</p>
<p>However, if the chord is now a CM7b5, the harmony suddenly gets more subtle because the b5 does not belong to the mode, so the "idea" behind the chord changes radically.</p>
<h3>Taming a transition</h3>
<p>Here is one last piece of advice. This is a trick I use a lot when I work on key changes (recall that I consider that very important). Between two keys, there are what I call "fixed points" and "semi-fixed points". Fixed points are notes that are common to both keys. Semi-fixed points are notes that move by only one half-tone. In order to master a key change, you must first play with the fixed points, and then the semi-fixed ones. These are true logical links in your discourse. So when I have a hard time with a particular key change, I sequence the transition, write down the modes, figure out the (semi-)fixed points, and play on them for hours until they become natural, completely digested.</p>
<p>In the end, improvising is simply like speaking a natural language (Cf. the article <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2011/09/23/The-%28natural%29-Language-of-Improvisation">The (natural) Language of Improvisation</a>) in which you need logical links in what you express. For instance, if I say: "I went to the store yesterday, and Resident Evil is really a crappy movie" you will have a hard time understanding what I meant or why I said such a thing, although both parts of the sentence are correct (and true BTW). However, if I say: "I went to the store yesterday; there was this big Resident Evil poster on the wall. Oh boy, what a crappy movie !" Then, everything becomes clear: you have explained how you got from point A (the store) to point B (a comment on a film). That's because the poster is a fixed point: it belongs to both contexts (keys).</p>
<p>That's it. And remember: Resident Evil <em>is</em> a crappy movie.</p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2011/09/25/Taming-Harmony-and-example#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/23The (natural) Language of Improvisationurn:md5:dc7e424b3db834cf3c5f8b59714eef2fFriday 23 September 2011Friday 23 September 2011Didier VernaPedagogyimprovisationlanguagepracticetheory<blockquote><p></p></blockquote> <p>This article comes from a Guitar Live <a href="http://www.guitare-live.com/guitare-archives,1092.html">challenge</a> on my composition "Printemptation" from the album <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/records/@-quartet.php">@-quartet</a>. Initially, one of the participants was asking me how I got to where I am now in music. While answering him, I ended up describing my conception of music, and notably improvisation, as a natural language. It is this idea that I'm transcribing below.</p>
<blockquote><p><ins>I wrote:</ins>
That's it. I hope that these considerations will help you getting started... note that when I wrote this piece, I did not think about all this. Music must express itself first, and can be subject to analysis, but afterwards !</p></blockquote>
<blockquote><p><ins>Reaction from one of the participants:</ins>
Now that is some beautiful thought that could very well be boldly advertised on the first page of the forum. But the question is, before letting the music express itself like this, one must reach a considerable level of technicity. It would be interesting to know how someone like you, who have reached that level, achieved this goal. I guess the answer will be "with a lot of work", but would that be a theoretical work, or rather an intuitive approach that sharpens progressively ?</p></blockquote>
<p>Of course there is a lot of work, but my personal approach is intuitive before anything else, and theoretical only when it needs to be. This has not always been the case though: I started the other way around, but it nearly disgusted me (in fact, I think that if my musical fiber had not been that strong, I would have given up on music altogether at that time).</p>
<p>My parents put me at the conservatory when I was 5. I got two years of music theory without ever touching an instrument. It was like I was going to school on Wednesdays when my buddies were out playing. Deadly for a 5 years old kid. Next, I learned some instruments the classical way, where you practice scales without ever playing a real piece (or at most one every year, for the yearly show). I couldn't stand it either, and I think that's the point where people who don't really have music in their soul give up once and for all. After that, however, I discovered Jazz, improvisation, but also another way of teaching thanks to a guitar teacher. That's how I ended up playing the guitar and stuck to it. I'm passionate for Jazz and improvisation, but a guitar player almost by accident. I could have turned out to be a pianist or a drummer just as well. The instrument is just a means of expression to me. There are people who truely love their instrument, but that is not really my case. I worked with this teacher for 2 years, and have been a self-taught since then, for around 20 years now. My work is mostly intuitive, but be careful: being a self-taught doesn't prevent one from opening a book on theory when the need for it arises...</p>
<p>That was the synopsis. Now the details, both gory and glorious.</p>
<h2>Improvisation as a natural language</h2>
<p>My personal approach (but I try to apply it when I teach) could be summarized in one sentence: "Improvisation is a natural language", just like French or English. The only difference is that while music stimulates the lower layers of your cerebral cortex (emotions), languages are directed to the abstract layers, but otherwise, that's it. I know this might sound like a cliché, but this idea is actually much more subtle than it seems. Let's just take the example of my son Éliott, 2 years old (at the time of this writing), to illustrate the matter. He is currently right in the middle of the language explosion. What do we notice about him ?</p>
<ul>
<li>First of all, he wants to communicate like crazy. He wants to show us things, objects, colors, everything new to his own eyes. He just can't stop babbling, telling us stuff, all the time. It is absolutely stunning how kids can be gossip at this development phase.</li>
<li>Next, he already understands practically everything that we say to him, and this, long before being able to talk by himself. That's actually normal, since he has been hearing us talking since he was born (as a matter of fact, even before that because hearing develops several months before actual birth). Having a 4 years old daughter (at the time of this writing) who's been there already, I'm still puzzled today by the understanding capabilities of the youngest children. Consider that when Éliott was 12 months old, we used to tell him "Hey sweetie, go put your socks into the laundry basket", and him, complied with the request, all proudly, the next second.</li>
<li>Finally, he's beginning to pronounce words that he has known for a long time, and there, the least I can say is that he trains himself every single second of his life. His language skills improve gradually, but I can also tell you that when he can't make himself clear, it drives him completely mad.</li>
</ul>
<p>So what lesson is there to learn from this "experimental study" ? Well, the lesson is that the Éliott subject is a beginner musician, and that the work of a musician goes through 3 steps: semantic work, theoretical work, and practical/technical work. Unfortunately, people have a tendency to forget step 1... Please note that I'm not pretending that those steps are truely sequential (everything happens more or less at the same time), but it's better to describe them in that particular order.</p>
<h3>Semantic work</h3>
<p>If children didn't feel a vital need for expressing themselves, they would not speak. In the same way, in order to be an improviser worth listening to, you have to feel the need for expressing yourself, which means in particular having interesting things to say. That's the difference between a very good technician that throws ultra-high speed scales at your face but don't touch you otherwise, and the blues player who only knows how to use 5 notes, but overwhelms you with musical emotion. The former really has nothing to say whereas the latter has little vocabulary but a true meaning to express. It's a bit like a boring chatterer on the one hand, and somebody who only says 3 words every once in a while, but have you think about them for hours.</p>
<p>But how do we get to having something to say in music ? The answer is always the same, everywhere: culture. We are seldom geniuses (I mean we seldom have ideas of our own) but we are very often in agreement or disagreement with what we hear from others. Consequently, before pretending to have an interesting opinion on a particular topic, you must know what others have already said, and sort out the things you agree with, or not. In music, you have to listen, listen, and listen again. Personally, I'm a true music sponge. I probably know by heart my whole disc library, improvisations included, from all the musicians, note by note, even the drum solos. But more than that, I know how to sort things out: there are things that I understand or not, there are things I'm not very excited about (whether I understand them or not), and there are things that I'm desperate to be able to express. It is somewhat like when you're listening to somebody and suddenly go "But of course ! That's exactly what I think !" (and there you could add that it is said in a better way). That is the way your musical personality will develop.</p>
<p>I hope that now you understand why it is important that your musical expression conveys meaning, and how it can convey one. If this Éliott kid of mine had spent his 2 years of life in a white room all alone and with nothing around him, and if he knew how to talk, what the hell could he talk about ? Nothing. In order to learn how to talk or play music, you have to discover a world (mine is Jazz; Éliott's is his everyday environment) and to hear talking or playing (for Éliott, it's the people speaking French around him; for me, it's the musicians that I'm listening to).</p>
<p>Now, the problem with musical theory at the age of 5, or the problem with my piano teacher who had me practice scales all day long at the age of 7, is that it's like putting the cart before the horse. Why the hell would I want to know how to play a Eb minor scale ?! I got nothing to do with it. Why the hell would I want to learn how to use a hammer when I don't have any nails to stick ? I for one can only work out of urgency and frustration, when I feel the need for it. Practicing a scale just for practicing a scale, I never could.</p>
<h3>Theoretical work</h3>
<p>When Éliott discovers something new, he tells us: "there ! there !", and he shows us. Then, we explain to him: "yeah sweetie, that is the red car". During the year, we might need to repeat the same thing a thousand times, but that is actually important: he is consolidating his recent learnings. When this consolidation is satisfactory, he has done a theoretical work consisting in the linkage of a set of percepts (visual, auditory, olfactory etc) with the corresponding words, which are abstract labels. This association constitutes what is called a "concept" in cognitive science.</p>
<p>Suppose I'm listening to Mike Stern. At some point, I spot a lick which I don't understand, but that gives me an instantaneous erection. So I grab my computer, rip the lick in question, time-stretch it a little and work on it at a very low speed. There, I discover for instance that our fellow guitarist had fun going one half-tone below the tune's normal pitch, playing on the major/minor third (that's actually a classic in the blues) and eventually got back in pitch on the fifth. What I've just done here is theorizing by generalizing: it is possible (and amusing) to play "out" by minus one half-tone. It has a particular connotation to it, and you also have to know how to get back on your feet again.</p>
<p>Another example: I have 2 songs in mind, that I don't know why, sound similar in the improvisations ("convey the same meaning" in other words). So I analyze this and figure out that both tunes sound like blues (minor 7th harmony), and that consequently, the improvisers actually use the myxolydian mode. At this point, I "understood" what myxolydian is: I can feel how that sounds, and I know I like the sound of it. But be sure to note the order of events here: first, I was captivated by the sound of "something" (a mode). Next, I figured out which one it was, and now, the lesson is learned. If a teacher had told me "Here's the myxolydian mode; work on it for next time" without me ever having heard any Jazz-Rock for instance, I probably would not have done my homework.</p>
<h3>Technical/practical work</h3>
<p>Right now, Éliott knows what's a "red car". But that doesn't mean he's able to pronounce those two words. Far from it actually; this will take another year of practice. The same goes in music: your hearing must be much more advanced than your fingering at any time, otherwise, it means that you don't have anything interesting (or new) to work on.</p>
<p>Getting back at the Mike Stern lick again, now that I've got it dissected, I don't necessarily know how to play it yet, let alone at the same speed. So I work slowly, then faster, then faster etc. In the same vein, keeping the minus one half-tone idea in mind, I can try all possible combinations, transitions between the 2 pitches, see if that sounds cool, in order to get familiar with those new fingerings etc. Now for once, that is the dummiest job one could think of, but it is an important one, and above all, I'm doing it with a purpose in mind: I want to play that lick as fast as Mike Stern, and right now, I can't. Or, I want to sound myxolydian at places, but right now, my fingering is too weak.</p>
<p>To sum up, when I say "music has to express itself", I'm referring to the semantic step, which must be the very first one. You need to have something to say, first. When I see teachers going "here are the scales that fit your song; try to play on them", that gets on my nerves (I think I'm gonna make some nu friends here). Personally, I begin with asking the student "sing something for me". If the person has some culture, (s)he will do some acceptable vocal stuff, and in general, will be absolutely incapable of replicating it on the instrument (and there, we have something to work on). Otherwise, (s)he will produce something miserable and we will spend a few hours building a couple of phrases, listening to what other people would play, but all singing (that is why it rains a lot in Paris).</p>
<p>One last thing: theory is only a tool, not a goal. All musical theories (all theories actually) are shaky. The human brain acts as a massive memory, not as a computer processing logical information. Today you speak fluently your mother tongue, but who still remembers all the grammar rules that we learned at school ? When you build a sentence, do you think "so, I need to put the subject first, then the verb, etc", or does the sentence simply come out by itself ? In music, it's the same: modes, scales, sharp fifths and all that stuff are good for homework. However, in the heat of the moment, you must not think. You must let what's well digested and has become natural come out. And let me repeat that: your theoretical knowledge must be more advanced than your technical skills; otherwise, that doesn't cut it.</p>
<p>One last thing (the real last thing this time): I never really worked on a scale in my whole life (maybe I should have ;-). However, I do know my fingering in all positions, all modes etc. Why is that ? Because when working on pieces of actual music (things that you can whistle but wouldn't know how to play), you necessarily end up working on pieces of actual scales (or arpeggios). So the scales end up building in your fingers, piece by piece without you ever noticing it. That is a "bottom-up" approach if you will. In the same way, my daughter knows very well how to put out correct French sentences. However, she never studied French grammar; she's in her first year at school. Grammar is for later...</p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2011/09/23/The-%28natural%29-Language-of-Improvisation#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/22Master Class section on didierverna.comurn:md5:0dd6e8b49fe07510ae26d7a3c492f28dThursday 12 February 2009Thursday 12 February 2009Didier VernaPedagogyessayimprovisationjazzmasterclass <p>Today, I eventually took the time to do something I've had in mind for months: I opened a "Master Class" section on the website.</p>
<p>This section will collect various thoughts, essays, or technical advice about music (my own or other's), jazz, improvisation or any other topic closely or remotely connected. I've already had many occasions for talking about these things, so I thought it would be a good idea to gather all this material in one place.</p>
<p>The section has already started with a first article entitled "The (natural) language of improvisation". I hope you will find this of some interest !</p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2009/02/12/Master-Class-section-on-didierverna.com#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/16Nouveau challenge sur Guitar Liveurn:md5:0438509b8fad09964f650bc8f762bb1dSaturday 10 November 2007Saturday 10 November 2007Didier VernaPedagogychallengeguitarimprovisationPrintemptation <p>Attention, amis guitaristes&nbsp;!</p>
<p>Un nouveau challenge démarre aujourd&rsquo;hui sur Guitar Live: improvisez à ma place sur Printemptation (morceau issu de l&rsquo;album @-quartet). Un mp3 de l&rsquo;enregistrement studio (moins la guitare) est fourni&nbsp;!</p>
<p>Vous avez 15 jours... amusez-vous bien&nbsp;!</p>
<p><a href="http://www.guitare-live.com/guitare,1092.html">http://www.guitare-live.com/guitare,1092.html</a></p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2007/11/10/Nouveau-challenge-sur-Guitar-Live#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/12Lisp, Jazz, Aïkidourn:md5:73c4536854c8d27b90f20f608068ed2aTuesday 3 April 2007Tuesday 3 April 2007Didier VernaPedagogyAïkidocomputer scienceLispmartial artspatterns <p>What can computer science, music and martial arts possibly have in common ?</p>
<p>These are like "strange attractors" in my life: no matter how much distance I may have put between them and me in the past, I always ended up coming back to them, and I know this will remain the case in the future.</p>
<p>I can remember pretty well the excitement I felt when I discovered the Lisp language, when I was first introduced to Jazz and improvisation, and when I had my first Aïkido practice session. Different things, same emotion. And also the feeling that in some way, I was born to be a lisper, a jazzman and an aïkidoka. I just didn't know until then.</p>
<p>Recently I was talking about my half-scientific / half-musical life with an old teacher of mine, and he asked me if I had suddenly turned completely schizophrenic. He was right ! To ask, I mean... So I started thinking about it, and I tried to figure out what these three domains have in common and why they all adhere so well to my own philosophy of life.</p>
<p>But perhaps I should begin with explaining what's my philosophy of life, then. I guess it's basically described in three words: Beauty, Fun, Unification.</p>
<p>Beauty lies in being able to evolve comfortably within a set of constraints, limits or rules. Note that this begins with accepting the existence of these constraints, limits or rules in the first place.
Fun, however, lies in breaking those rules at will, knowing how to get rid of them, and then get back to them, a bit like a cat jumping in any kind of direction and yet always falling back on his feet.</p>
<p>There's a corollary to these two points: real freedom is not to have no limit, but to know your limits so well that you can either evolve at will within them, or break them at will.</p>
<p>Unification means drawing bridges between apparently unrelated fields, starting to figure out what is the common essence of things. By the way, this is precisely what I am doing right now...</p>
<h2>Why is Lisp beautiful, fun and unifying ?</h2>
<ul>
<li>There's beauty in writing code in any language (yes, there's even beauty in writing shell code). The beauty lies in your ability to adapt your concepts to the constraints of the language you're using, in other words, to make the best out of it, given its inherent limitations in expressiveness.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>However, and this is where the fun lies, Lisp allows you to break the rules of traditional languages because you can adapt the language to your concepts as much as you need to adapt your concepts to the language. Lisp is known (or at least, it should be) as the "programmable programming language": thanks to the power of its macro system and the customizability of its reader for instance, you can create a completely new language (even with a completely new syntax, see the loop macro for instance) within Lisp and adapt it to your personal needs. This makes Lisp the language of choice for implementing a DSL (Domain Specific Language) for instance.</li>
</ul>
<p>It is interesting to note that with some experience in Lisp, adapting the language to your needs becomes an integral part of the art of programming; a rule in itself. In this way, what you do is really pushing the limits farther away, making a rule of what was an exception before.</p>
<ul>
<li>Lisp is also the language of unification. While it is mainly known to be a functional language (pure or impure, by the way), it is also imperative, procedural, object-oriented and even context-oriented if you want it to be. It is also declarative: look at the abundant literature on how easy it is to implement Prolog in Lisp. So Lisp really is any kind of language you want it to be: where a particular programming paradigm exists by construction in another language, it is usually implemented as a mere library in Lisp. Most recent (and fashionable) programming languages today are just re-discovering things that existed in Lisp since its invention in 1958.</li>
</ul>
<h2>Why is Jazz beautiful, fun and unifying ?</h2>
<ul>
<li>There's beauty in playing a song, in any kind of music. The beauty lies in your ability to adapt your personal musical ideas, your way of playing, in other words, your musical personality, to the constraints of the song. People often forget that a song is by definition (or, so to speak, by composition) limited in expressiveness, just as an average programming language is: it has a pitch, a tempo, a rhythmic style, a chord progression; all things actually specified by the score. In traditional music, you are expected to evolve within these limits.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>However, and this is where the fun lies, Jazz (specifically improvisation) allows you to break the rules of traditional music by playing "out", both harmonically and rhythmically. Improvisation is by essence the musical practice that allows you to modify a score in real time: you can change the ambiance, the chords, the rhythm, you can temporarily escape from the song and then get back to it (remember the cat ?), even play "atonal" (roughly meaning using scales that do not correspond to the underlying chords). During this process, you are actually adapting the song to your musical concepts instead of adapting your musical concepts to the song. This is exactly like adapting Lisp to your programming needs instead of adapting your needs to the language. And when the other musicians follow you on this "song tweaking game", that's were the fun really begins !</li>
</ul>
<p>It is interesting to note that with some experience in jazz, playing "out" becomes an integral part of the art of improvisation; a rule in itself. When Miles Davis started to mix major and minor harmony (for instance using a minor 3rd on a major chord), numerous conservator alligators wanted to burn the heretic alive. Now, all of this is well known, and you can learn actual techniques for chords substitution and atonal improvisation in Jazz schools. Again, in this way, what you do is really pushing the limits farther away, making a rule of what was an exception before.</p>
<ul>
<li>Jazz is also the music of unification. A very narrow view of it is as a musical style: the ternary "chabada" drums pattern, the walking bass and so on. But Jazz is really not that. It is a philosophy, a way to envision all styles of music. Michel Petrucciani once said "Jazz is a music of thieves", and he was right ! A Jazz musician is fundamentally curious. He's interested in everything he can ear, and tries to appropriate all the ideas he's exposed to by adapting them to his own personality. This is a process that happens in composition as well as in improvisation, but improvisation is the key factor that unifies all musical styles in Jazz. So just like Lisp unifies all programming concepts into a philosophy of programming, Jazz unifies all music styles into a philosophy of music.</li>
</ul>
<h2>Why is Aïkido beautiful, fun and unifying ?</h2>
<ul>
<li>There's beauty in practicing any martial art (as long that it has not become just sports). The beauty lies in executing the techniques that define your martial art to the perfection. But one has to understand that as long as you are practicing only a set of techniques (which is a very narrow view of martial arts), you are evolving in a very limited environment, however beautiful (and Aïkido is aesthetically beautiful).</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>The fun begins when you start to understand the Budo which is behind martial arts, and especially behind Aïkido. The Budo is a philosophy, just as Jazz or Lisp are philosophies. By emphasizing on values such as personal cultivation, self-control and self-awareness, the Budo renders techniques unimportant, or at least secondary, because being able to react in any situation is more important than the way you react to them. Techniques are just tools to reach a greater goal. Aïkido masters are so far away beyond technique that you can't see them anymore in their movements. The rules are broken, the techniques are gone. What's left is a "purified" state; what's left is the Ki.</li>
</ul>
<p>It is interesting to note that in Aïkido, breaking the rules, that is, avoiding being enslaved by technique is a constant preoccupation. For example, in Aïkido, there is no distinction between beginners and experienced practitioners. Mixing levels in practice is one of the ways of ensuring that you will constantly face new and unexpected situations. As such, breaking the rules has also become a rule in itself. The ultimate rule-breaking exercise in Aïkido is probably the Randori. When faced with 2 or 4 adversaries simultaneously, there is no room for rules or techniques, you just have to react. This is exactly like improvising in Jazz: in real time, there is no room for rules or harmony analysis, you just have to play.</p>
<ul>
<li>Aïkido is also the martial art of unification. At least in two ways. On the technical plan, we know that Morihei Ueshiba, the father of Aïkido, was a master in several martial arts (both "soft", like ju-jutsu, and "hard", like ken-jutsu or jutte-jutsu) when he founded his own. As such, Aïkido unifies martial arts in general by incorporating techniques from many different sources. This is also pointed out by the fact that Jigoro Kano, founder of Judo, sent his best students to learn Aïkido. On a spiritual plan, O Senseï's interpretation of the Budo not only encompasses the traditional meaning of the term (notably including personal cultivation) but extends to such notions as love and protection of all things, respect for all lives (see his "revelation" in spring 1925), which are much more universal concerns.</li>
</ul>
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>Lisp, Jazz and Aïkido are more than kinds of programming, music, or martial arts. They are philosophies of programming, music and martial arts. More than that, they are actually different appearances of the same philosophy of life. There is much more to say about it. There are also links to establish with scientific research in general. But not in a blog... I'd like to write a proper essay about these things when I find the time... someday EDIT: <a href="http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2018/05/02/Lisp%2C-Jazz%2C-Aikido%2C-10-years-later">it's done!</a></p>http://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?post/2007/04/03/Lisp-Jazz-Aikido#comment-formhttp://www.didierverna.com/blog/index.php?feed/navlang:en/atom/comments/5